Lessons
by Cole224
Summary: As usual, Harry's going to learn things the hard way. Sequel to No Fear. Short chapters.
1. Chapter 1

This is set before The Dark Knight so Batman is not going after Joker yet.

"_Not so fast_."

Harry almost jumped when someone grabbed his arm and hissed those words in his ear. He turned his head and met the eyes of a boy who looked just a couple of years older than him.

"You don't want to try and steal from there, if that's what you were thinking," the older boy said with a shake of his head. That _had _been what Harry was thinking, really, he thought as he looked at the tiny store. He'd gotten desperate enough to risk it.

It had been three days since his aunt and uncle had driven off, leaving him on the streets of Gotham City. Three days since Harry had seen that strange, psychotic man who'd killed a person right in front of him.

He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd walked beside the man, who had been nearly skipping with some unknown mirth and talking in short bursts over the period of time they were walking. Harry was pretty sure that the story he told about how he got the scars on his face was a lie but the look in the man's eyes as he told it made Harry wonder if _he _even knew how he got them.

"_Stay here. I've got…things to do." _This was all the man said after leaving Harry in a new part of the city. His eyes had been gleaming as he said it and if Harry were stupid, he might have thought the man had forgotten Harry was there.

That was the last time Harry had seen him.

Harry wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. True, the man was crazy and, from what Harry had seen in the little time he'd spent with him, unpredictable. Still, and Harry wasn't sure why he felt this way, the man had been…interesting.

"That place is better," the boy said, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. Harry looked to where he was pointing, to a small store in the other direction. "No cameras and the guy who usually works the counter is completely clueless."

"Uh, thanks," Harry said, eyeing the boy and wondering why the boy was telling him this, why he'd stop to help Harry when, from what Harry could see, he was probably living on the street himself. After a moment, however, Harry felt ridiculous for being suspicious of a kid not that much older than him when he'd willing walked down the street with an insane killer not too long before.

"Names David," the boy said and Harry reluctantly shook his hand. "How long you been out here?"

"Not very long. I guess that's obvious." David raised an eyebrow, noticing Harry's accent.

"Where are you from?" He asked. Harry did not answer.

"Hang on," he said instead, stopping at a newsstand and staring at the days paper, at the picture on the front. "Who _is _that?" The picture wasn't the best, kind of blurry. He read the caption, which said it was from a security camera. Still, no matter how bad the picture was, the face staring back at him was unmistakable.

"Nobody knows, really," David said, frowning. "People just call him The Joker." He paused and grabbed Harry's arm again, dragging him away because the guy tending the stand was watching them.

"_Why_ do they call him that?" Harry asked with a frown of his own.

"Because he leaves the playing card at his crimes and he paints his face. He keeps going at it like this and he's going to get Batman after him."

"Batman?" Harry asked incredulously. "Who's Batman?" David just grinned.

"Nobody knows that either. He's just a guy that dresses up and goes out at night and takes out the criminals." Harry snorted at this and shook his head. He thought about it a moment, remembering the look in the deranged man's eyes before he'd left Harry.

"Maybe he _wants_ Batman to come after him."

"He's crazy but he's not that crazy. He can't be. Batman's taken out a lot of guys." Harry couldn't help but to notice the awed tone in David's voice as he told Harry a story of a guy who used some sort of drug to make people see things.

"Every criminal out there is afraid of Batman," David said firmly but Harry shook his head. He had only spent a little time in the presence of the man who called himself The Joker but Harry was pretty sure that his next statement was the truth.

"If he isn't afraid to die, he's not going to be afraid of Batman."

"How do you know he's not afraid to die?" David turned a frown on him. Harry shrugged but he knew that it was true and he knew the fact that he'd said he wanted to die was the only reason he was still living.

* * *

"Wake up, Harry!" Somebody jumped on top of him. Harry groaned, opening his eyes and stared up at David, who was entirely too cheerful for someone who had been living on the streets for two years.

"What?" He asked.

"We gotta go before anyone finds us here," David said, dragging Harry to his feet. David had shown him a few good places to sleep in the two days he'd known the boy.

"Let's go," David said, walking ahead of Harry and out of the rundown, condemned house they'd snuck into the night before. Harry was about to follow when something on the floor, next to where he'd been sleeping caught his eye.

Harry bent and picked up the knife that sat there. It was small enough to hide but long and sharp enough to a great deal of damage. Underneath was a card. He picked up the playing card and his gaze shifted to the knife.

"You alright?" David called, starting back over. Harry quickly pocketed the knife and the card and turned around.

"I'm fine." He doubted that David would want him around anymore if he found out that Harry had contact with _'that crazy guy who was going to get his ass kicked by Batman.' _

"We need to be more careful, now," David said as they walked outside.

"Why?" David shrugged.

"I heard that some of the kids around here have gone missing lately." Harry nodded but he wasn't really afraid. Still, he didn't get rid of the knife.

* * *

It happened eight days after he'd been left on the street. Harry was looking for David. He hadn't seen the older boy during the day and he remembered what David had said about kids disappearing and he was suddenly afraid.

He'd walked through the back alleys, even going down what David had said where the most dangerous streets before he'd found him with an unfamiliar man. He stood at the end of the alley he'd found them in. The man was leaning over David. David's head was thrown back and Harry knew, just _knew, _the boy was dead. The man straightened and Harry saw the small smile on his face. He saw the way that David's clothes didn't look the same…Harry felt revulsion and rage rise up when the man looked up at him and smiled wider. Harry walked closer, looked down at David open and unseeing eyes and something inside of him snapped.

David had looked after him since they'd met. David had made sure he had something to eat and a place to sleep. David _helped_ him and this man had…

The man was just opening his mouth to say something but Harry took him by surprise. He wasn't thinking as he pulled the knife out plunged it into the mans stomach. He blacked it out but when the world came back the man was dead, Harry was on top of him on the ground and he half a dozen bleeding wounds on his chest and stomach.

Harry stood, shaking and covered in blood when he heard that now familiar laugh. He looked up to see The Joker watching him at the end of the alley. After a few moments, without saying anything to Harry, he turned and walked away.

Harry stared down at the knife, at his blood covered hands and once. Emotions raged and Harry thought he might be sick. He looked up again. He didn't want to feel it. For the second time in eight days, he followed The Joker out.


	2. Chapter 2

This is the last chapter of this story. I never really set out for this to be novel length. I just mainly focused on Harry's slide into insanity in this.

* * *

_If you spend enough time with somebody insane, can that make you insane too?_

There were bloody hand prints on the walls of the place that Joker called home and now Harry did too. Two for the man that had killed David. Two for the first person Harry had killed. The blood had stayed on his hands until it dried.

There was a point, about three days after he'd killed that man that Harry had enough. Joker came and went but he was mostly alone. He didn't speak, hadn't since. He painted the walls with what he'd found in the place to keep himself occupied, to keep from thinking about David and what he'd done. He left the two hand prints and painted around them.

"_No fear…" _

On the third day, he went out and almost got caught by the manager of the store David had warned him not to steal from. The man was looking for him, probably trying to get the cops after him. Harry wasn't afraid to die but he was afraid of going into the system or possibly going back to his aunt and uncles.

He was afraid of what it meant, killing someone. The hand prints on the wall haunted him and he could swear that he didn't get all the blood off his hands. He covered them in paint but not the ones on the wall. He couldn't. Not yet.

He had spent three days in solitude, thinking about it and wanting to be like Joker. He wanted to be completely unafraid.

He hated the man who ran that store because he was afraid of him.

"_This…this will not do." _Joker dragged him out by the arm, took him to the front of the store in the middle of the night. He left Harry standing on the opposite side of the street for a few minutes before coming out and handing Harry the match. Harry learned and he started the fire.

He watched the building burn, lit up brilliantly against the night and this was beautiful…this was art. He was not afraid.

"_No rules…" _

He had spent the first nine years of his life as a maid and a cook without the pay and getting locked up whenever he did the slightest thing wrong. He spent twelve days after that in the company of a madman with no rules but his own.

He made art on the walls of the place he was staying and Joker sometimes occupied and he learned something from the explosion of the store. After that, he made art in the city.

He began to see the world that way, after that day. Even people. The buildings were unfinished works of art that he would get to finish. The people were unfinished. Unmarred.

_Don't talk to strangers! Don't steal! Don't ask questions! _

He took great delight in breaking the rules that the Dursley's had set out for him years ago. He broke the rules set out for him and after that he felt free…except for those two hand prints still on the wall.

"_No guilt." _

"_I…I have a present…" _

It was Joker, really, who set him free in the end with one simple move. By dragging a dirty and disheveled Uncle Vernon into the place they were staying and dropping the man at Harry's feet. Harry wondered how long ago Joker had caught the man for a moment but decided he didn't care.

Harry stepped closer to his uncle, staring down at the man. Vernon was saying something or trying to but Harry wasn't listening. He reached over and picked up the bottle he'd placed on the only table in the room earlier.

"Do you know what this is?" Harry asked softly, speaking for the first time since David had died. "I quite like it, actually." He showed the beaker to Vernon with the DANGER TOXIC sign printed in bold on the side.

"You can make art with more than paint these days…" He met his uncle's eyes and saw the fear there. Harry grinned at that, at the fact that for the first time in his life, he was not afraid of his uncle.

"You'll be my first…" He pulled the top off and a few seconds later, Vernon's screams could be heard blocks away.

The next day, those two hand prints were gone from the wall.

* * *

Okay, so Harry's thought process in this was a sort of due to the 1989 Batman movie and Jack Nicholson's version of The Joker. I just kind of had the idea that this is what that Joker's thought process would have been like. I might write something else for this later. Maybe Dumbledore coming to find Harry or something. Not sure yet.


End file.
